


the boy who held moons and bubbles

by orphan_account



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bubbles - Freeform, Drowning, M/M, Reminiscing, Staying the same, Wishful Thinking, bronze bell, cliffsides, overcoming, taunting of the waves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:19:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kuro should have done better.Kuro should have done something.





	

Had the ocean not been so dark, he would have dove right in. Awaiting. Still as the bubbles became his only light and encircled him in a glowing blue. Shiver, he might have if only he could have overcome his fear. The water was notorious in winter, he understood all too well.

He didn’t (couldn’t) jump, nor did he shiver from the cold water as the thought of it slithered past his skin. His jacket wasn’t nearly warm enough to save him from the wisps of November chill, never mind the crashing tide. So the ocean sat still, like the boy who sat upon its cliff’s edge. 

Sleepy Ash had many names until a collar was engraved against his neck with the words “Kuro the Cat”. One added to many, and he knew he would sink a little bit further into the pile as time flew by. Much like the chink of the bell against the bubbles below his feet. It was difficult to part with the bronze trinket that Kuro wore like a military medal. The waves taunted him of that. 

The crashing waves tumbled in bales of blue, drowning the bells cry with a seagulls. A childish action it was, to cry like that gull. Kuro just couldn’t bring himself to copy the gull, despite how much his heart clenched and head spun. Too troublesome, Kuro decided with a bowed head as if the ocean before him was holy; it laid comfortably in its magnificence. He prayed to the ocean that he wouldn’t be cursed for lack of tears. 

Although, Kuro already knew that he was. He was destined to watch the life leave his friend’s eyes; to mourn the past, the present, the future, and what anything could have been. He had to relive his own laziness, his own impudence, his own smart-aleck self that deserved to drown beside Mahiru’s bell in the white capped waves. Kuro had to hold onto, had to indulge in his own sins like a pack dog, lay down beside his problems, and bury them far away. A basement, somewhere in Oklahoma, below the wheat reeds and away from prying eyes. Far from any person or animal, he preferred. No one could knock on his doors with a kind face and sad eyes and a beautiful heart. Not when he was at his worst; never again. 

He ruined the most precious of china, the bravest of bulls, and the adrenaline addicted treasure hunter. He should have just ended the act sooner; not when his hands were trapped upon a limp body, but free and stuffed into his pockets. Kuro should have saved him while he could. Before all hell broke loose from the wine bottle of life and wasted away in the eerie city of death. 

The cliff watched the water while it clawed to reach Kuro’s feet. The bubbled foam splattered upon the out jutted rocks. 

Kuro should have known better  
Kuro should have been better.  
Kuro should have done better.

Kuro should have done something. 

But the blood stained in rusted splatters weren’t destined to leave his coat’s hem for some time. He could never wash it out, much like his sins. Kuro cursed into the night, crying not from his eyes, but from the stiffness of his tongue, the grinding of his teeth, and his hiccupped and cracked voice. He could barely decipher his own words. 

Life beat down on Kuro when life was all he had. Death brought no relief, despite the possible arguments, and by the snap of some genius’ fingers, Kuro was back and standing just as unsteadily as he had before. 

He wasn’t a monster, some modified human or some shit. Sure, Kuro felt like the monster that children closed their closets to flee. The monsters that were said to slink around on Halloween night. Kuro felt like the monster who was betrayed greater monsters because he trusted too much. Too much for Kuro’s heart. That one monster that watched the days, months, years, and lifetimes passed with sad eyes. That stupid monster that found someone who matched his trust so fully that he was left breathless; that stupid monster Mahiru trusted. 

But he was Sleepy Ash above all and, sometime, the name “Kuro the Cat” would flee from the tip of his tongue. Just like all of the others did. It was only the breaking of those chains that glowed a brilliant blue that ached the most. 

Scratch that, Kuro couldn’t forget the look of hope on Mahiru’s face that had Kuro clutching his jacket with white knuckles. It was like the bell; it had to go. Everything had to go.

Despite the fact that Mahiru was the only family Kuro truly felt he had, he couldn’t bring his tongue to shape his name. Mahiru gave him that name, for Christ’s sake and allowed Kuro to sit before the TV at eleven at night with a ramen cup in his lap. 

And while Mahiru cared too much, Kuro cursed and wished that he hadn’t cared at all. Stabbed him in the back either way. Wouldn’t have hurt so bad, felt like he was drowning faster than the bell in the ocean tide. 

The ocean air crisped Kuro’s jacket sleeves as he stood and peered to the tumbling waves below. Like the glowing spear that Mahiru used to hold with tender hands, the bell sank further into the depths and Kuro held his breath. He sighed once, then another time with closed eyes.

Killing feelings was worse than killing for Mahiru’s sake. Maybe, if he really tried, the tears would come. He hope the would and waited a beat, then another and finally unshackled another sigh of defeat because no effort of his could bring tears. 

Kuro opened his eyes to toss his name into the wind for the last time. He cupped the moon so it shone in his hands and through the gaps between his fingers. The boy on the cliff matched the moon, and in a melancholy prayer, he said, “one more time.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a really bad idea  
> but eh, I tried  
> have fun, my bitchsticks


End file.
